Roadkill on the Highway of Life
by The Black Sluggard
Summary: He couldn't just leave it there... Slash, Ryan/Esposito.


When Beckett had pulled Javier aside that afternoon she'd told him point blank that he should knock off early and go get Kevin drunk. It hadn't been a suggestion. Javier accepted the necessity; the break up with Jenny had been pretty rough. His partner had been practically useless all day, and he and Kate both knew they wouldn't get much out of him until he was a little bit over her. Arriving at the Old Haunt they learned that Castle had called ahead, and there was a bottle of good quality scotch and the privacy of the "hidden" basement office waiting for them. His partner had been reluctant at first—he was still in the stage where he was taking all the blame. Once coaxed to talk about it, however, he hadn't managed to stop until he was hoarse. And, an hour later, he had finally surrendered to the remedy with a fierce degree of abandon.

Now, it was 10 pm, and Kevin was mostly dead weight as they shuffled themselves up the stairs to Javier's apartment.

Thankfully he had his legs under him, and Javier was able to leave him propped against the wall as he fumbled for his keys. The apartment was dark inside and he walked in ahead to turn on the lights and clear their path of any obstacles. When he turned around Kevin had crept in through the entryway and stood, weight supported along the wall. There was an odd, confused expression on his face. Following his gaze, Javier realized he was staring at the couch.

_Oh. Right..._

* * *

><p><strong>One month ago...<strong>

"Are you even carrying your end?" Javier shouted, half a grunt as he adjusted his grip on the worn upholstery. He didn't look at his partner, eyes focused on his footing, but there was an apologetic noise above him on the stair. The load lightened slightly, and they were able to resume the treacherous downward climb.

Kevin and his fiance hadn't set a date yet, but they'd finally decided to move in together despite that. The compromise they'd reached was this: his apartment, her furniture. While he'd managed to hang on to a few things, the couch had been non-negotiable. He'd invited Javier over for a few beers and a ceremonial farewell—and, naturally to help him drag the thing out, returning it to the curb from whence it came. Once the ordeal was over, Kevin invited him to hang around. Jenny's brothers would help her by with her stuff a little later, and there would probably be more beer and pizza to keep them in line. Javier politely declined. He watched, feeling strangely ill at ease, as Kevin returned to his apartment.

A confusing ball of emotions had wound itself up in a fitful snarl in his chest, and it was too much for him at that moment to try and sort through it. He settled instead on letting his eyes roam over the discarded couch, taking in the details of its hidden geography: The stain from what Kev had dubbed the Great Nacho War of 2010, the missing button that was pulled off during yet more rough-housing. He remembered finding it in his pocket after coming home that night, and realized it was still sitting in his junk drawer under the microwave. The burn mark from...he didn't even remember what, but he was sure it wasn't from its pre-Kevin ownership. It bothered him that he might never remember.

Suddenly, he couldn't just leave it sitting there.

He wound up standing on the sidewalk for five minutes, glaring stupidly at the thing and attracting stares before he finally gave up and called his sister.

"Hey, are you and your boy busy?" He asked, feeling like an idiot. "It's...kind of a weird emergency."

* * *

><p><strong>Now...<strong>

Prolonged cohabitation had proved the undoing of Kevin and Jenny's relationship, apparently.

Javier was convinced it was better now than, for example, after enduring the emotional and monetary expense of a wedding, but it still had to suck. He hadn't shared that with Kevin tonight, though. For one, he hadn't thought his partner would appreciate that kind of pragmatism, even as a joke. Regardless, Javier wasn't sure he trusted the motives behind that opinion anymore.

He didn't answer the question in Kevin's eyes, barely even meeting them as he slung his partner's arm over his shoulder and brought him over to the couch. He let Kevin fall bonelessly onto its soft cushions. He knew from experience it was one of the better places to wake up hung over. Still, hopeful of heading off that eventuality, he'd gone into the bathroom for aspirin and water After their limp progress back from the bar, Javier had half expected Kevin to pass out as soon as he was horizontal. When he returned to the living room, though, his partner was still awake. Kevin stared up at him as he approached, confusion still written in the lines of his forehead, like Javier was something he'd never seen before. Something in that attention sparked a jump in his pulse.

He did his best to ignore it, setting the pills and glass on the coffee table.

While he was bent over Kevin's hand came up, loose fingers hooking into the collar of Javier's shirt. Joints still loose from drinking, he lost his balance, knees dropping to the carpet beside the couch. He found his face just inches away from his partner's, barely able to process warm breath tickling his lips before they were met with a lax kiss. Javier pulled away, moments later than he should have, drawing in a slow breath. He saw worry begin to eat at the edges of Kevin's expression. His tongue was heavy and he couldn't speak, but Javier managed to shake his head to dismiss the concern he saw gathering in his partner's eyes. He punctuated the silent answer with light kiss. Drawing back he saw comprehension, Kevin's reluctant understanding of the wordless agreement that had just been made. Even then it was difficult for Javier to keep his resolve. But, as he helped himself to his feet, his fingers found the burn mark scarring the upholstery. It was as good a reminder as any why he had to step away now.

If anything else was going to happen on that couch, they both had to remember.


End file.
